What About the Blind Girl?

The dream started like most dreams do, wispy and vague. There was a gathering of a few people that I knew, though I could not identify them. They presented me with a horse, of sorts. The horse slowly morphed into a large dog, which we all took for a walk.

As we walked, I became more aware of the group, though I could not see a face, I felt comfortable with them. These were more than merely friends. They were close companions, one of them extremely close, and yet shrouded in a dreamy veil.

I was told, in a rather soft and indirect manner, that there was a new person in the group that they all wanted me to meet. The young lady was blind, but quite chipper. The group and I, along with the blind girl, walked the dog, using a long red leash. We were walking along a low grassy hill in a populated area that felt oddly familiar.

The grassy open area morphed into the interior of a house, a house I have never seen before. I could not really see it in the dream. I was aware of walls and rooms, but cannot describe the layout or color, other than to note there were several sets of stairs that had no banisters. The blind girl was walking around the house with ease.

I asked her, “Are you counting?” Indicating her ability to know where she was by the steps she took. She replied, “Yes.” I was amazed at her ability to walk and talk, and yet keep count. Suddenly we were all in an upper room. The blind girl began to move about, lost her footing near the wall less, banister less edge, and fell from sight. There was a collective gasp.

I lunged toward the edge where she had fallen, and then quickly dashed down the stairs, but the blind girl was gone. There was no sense of urgency. Instead there was a feeling that everything was all right. Suddenly a table appeared with and my ex’s father. He called his two grown sons to the table for a game of cards, and invited me to play with them. His demeanor firm, but not grim.

I placed a coaster on the table, and he moved it, then noting the table itself. He gave it a firm rap with his knuckles. The bleached wood made a solid knock sound. “This is a strong table. Good wood,” he said. He grabbed the corner and twisted it, using an almost superman like strength, causing the corner to splinter but not break or detach.

With a spirit like movement, he floated toward me, getting close for a whispered conversation. “I had a thing for one of my secretaries once,” he said. I looked at him shocked. “But if the house is burning?” He questioned me. I replied, “Well, I would be the last out. Everyone else goes first. That’s my job.” “Exactly,” he stated, with a sense of pleasure in my reply.

While this conversation took place, there was a sense that the hosts within the house were in chit chat conversation. Some were wondering about the blind girl, but others were talking about ‘her.’ The woman they indicated was my ex, the daughter of the overbearing figure that was questioning me. I could feel my heart flutter and nervousness rise.

The father turned back toward the card table, and I turned around looking deeper into the house. I could now tell that I was in a well-adorned living room. I wondered where the blind girl had gone. Then I saw a young lady that, in a dreamlike fashion, I seemed to know. I recognized her as a dear friend of my ex. She was a tiny little thing of a woman. She was putting on her coat and preparing to leave.

She came over to me and gave me a good bye hug. The hug was friendly, with an understanding. I began to choke up. She and I slowly spun a quarter turn, when the friend released her grip. There in front of me was my ex. She did not look anything like she really looks, except in the face.

She had a classic hourglass figure, and wore a gown of day glow orange. Despite the seemingly garish color, the gown was fashioned like Cinderella’s dress, and in the foggy muted nature of the dream created a glowing princess visage. She came to me, wrapping her arms around me. I wrapped my arms around her, and we held each other close. She did not feel like her real self. The shape was all wrong. But it was her. Her emotion, her personality, her warmth came through loud and clear.

Like a figurine atop a music box, we began to turn in a slow, floating spin. The emotions welled up in me. I fought hard to contain a bawl. My eyes watered as I soaked up the warmth of the embrace. For a moment, from a third person perspective, I could see my ex turn her head and look at me, though I did not look at her. She was smiling. Knowing her happiness added to the depth of my feeling. It took more effort to contain the weep.

I concentrated on my breathing to hold back the emotional onslaught. In and out, breathe after breathe.

I became aware of my actual breathing. Dream became half dream, became waking consciousness, the breathing of the dream in time with my real, deep, deliberate breathes. Emotions crawled over me like a pet cat seeking rest. I fought back the tears.

December 10, 2013

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